Kaiba Corp, New York City
by kaiba-x-and-x-jou
Summary: Kaiba Seto hates New York City. He likes men and he likes sex with no-strings-attached. When his P.A. quits, he finds an unlikely attraction to a certain obnoxious blond replacement. Puppyshipping. Kaiba/Others. Jou/Others. MPREG.
1. Act One

Kaiba _hated_ coming to America. He _liked_ Japan. The etiquette rules were known to everyone, and nobody unnecessary dared to interrupt him for anything inane. Though Domino City had the same population by numbers as New York City, it was quieter, neater, _cleaner_. The people were less obnoxious.

Compared to the neat, well-oiled machine of the Kaiba Corp headquarters in Domino, the American offices were a shambling mess.

"I quit!" his P.A. screamed in his doorway, making a loud, dramatic scene. He didn't look up from his computer screen. "You can pay someone else to be your _slave_!"

He had to control himself from rolling his eyes. An entitled white woman from a long line of land-owning barons throwing around the word slavery just for the dramatics. He didn't even get his coffee yet. He was rather glad she was quitting.

At long last, her rant finished, and she stood glaring at him furiously.

"Very well," he said in a bland, neutral tone. "You can forgo your benefits in exchange for the lack of two weeks' notice. You may vacate the building; your belongings will be couriered to the address on your personnel file."

What do you know? Her indignation could increase. That was evidently possible. She smashed a priceless antique vase on her way out—he'd never liked Ming pottery, but it had been a gift from a business associate he had mercilessly crushed in a merger three months later.

Once the hallway outside had returned to its usual semi-unproductive hubbub of noise, he pressed the button for his intercom. "Ms Durst. I'll need a new Personal Assistant."

There was only a slight pause. "And where do you suppose I will be summoning one from, Mr Kaiba?" She asked. The sarcastic drawl of his secretary was familiar and welcoming. He liked her. "At noon on a Friday afternoon?"

He scoffed. "Just send me the _least incompetent_ intern we have," he said, and closed the line. He hoped she could, in fact, find one. If he didn't get a coffee in the next hour, he was going to have to ask her and she hated that sort of busy work. It was hard enough to keep his schedule in order.

Seventeen minutes later, the door open and submitted the _last person in the world_ he had expected.

"Caramel mocha, three sugars, with whipped cream on full cream milk. Made at exactly 165 degrees." A paper cup settled on the coaster on the corner of his desk. "The Sakamoto files—someone had filed them under 'chi'. Ms Durst says to tell you that she rescheduled the meeting to a business dinner, and I've booked a banquet room in Kyo Ya."

Kaiba raised his eyes, looking into the face of the most incompetent student he had ever met.

Jounouchi Katsuya smiled. "Was there anything else, sir?"

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Call Blue Moon Agency and inform them I require a booking for tonight."

The slight twitch of fair, blond eyebrows told him that his intern recognised the agency by name. But he wasn't scandalised. "Any preferences?"

"Blond."

Being asked to call an elite male escort service didn't even bat an eye for his apparent least incompetent intern—but that caused an odd quirk of the mouth. Still—Jounouchi Katsuya bowed, in the Japanese way, and backed out of the room without turning his back.

The coffee was perfect.

* * *

Many people, including most of his ex-partners, considered Kaiba Seto a mystery. He rather believed he was simple to understand—people just did not like what he _was_.

To start with, he liked _competence_. Nothing calmed him faster than someone who could do what they were supposed to do and did it with no prompting. Above that, he was _attracted_ to those who did what they were good at with particular finesse.

When Jounouchi Katsuya had swept into his office, with his perfect coffee, the file his PA was quitting over that had been missing for two weeks, and a reservation for the restaurant he'd been wanting to go to for three years, Kaiba had popped a boner so fast it had made his head spin.

Jounouchi (or Wheeler as he was known to the higher ups, and Joey by the people on his same rung of the business ladder) wasn't meant to be good at his job. It was incongruent with his mental picture of the dumb blond duellist who won through pure luck of the draw. He'd always been objectively aware that Jounouchi was good-looking, he had all he marks of a conventionally attractive (white enough to be passing, but with just enough marks of his Japanese heritage to give him the exoticism they fetishized hypocritically). But that had never mattered.

' _Jou-kun_ ' had been a terrible student, a pathetic duellist and a comparatively lousy fighter—he didn't give a shit about ' _friendship_ ' or ' _loyalty_ ' so those things he'd been arguably _good at_ were completely irrelevant to him. There had been nothing for Kaiba to admire, ergo nothing for him to be attracted to.

Wheeler was not just the least incompetent intern in the American office, he was the second best Personal Assistant he had. He knew what Kaiba needed, if not before he needed it, within a few words. And he was American enough to be able to get it out of the people who he needed. And he always had Kaiba's coffee, just as he liked it, whenever he was beginning to crave one.

Kaiba fucked his way through several particularly talented sex professionals, all of them blond. That, he supposes, is one of the other things people don't want to know about him. He is very promiscuous and, in most cases, entirely uninterested in any sort of committed attachment. Sex professionals—prostitutes, if you want to be specific about their domain—are the preferred option.

Not to say he hasn't had lovers, but that was rare.

He kept his attraction unspoken, and unacted upon. The last thing he needed to make his time in America more complicated was a sexual harassment case.

* * *

The first time they had sex, they do it pressed up against the glass window of the office. They'd just pulled off a risky business move on a tight deadline, in utter secrecy with just the two of them. Wheeler's competence had left him soaking his pants with pre-cum and almost _shaking_ with desire.

He assumed Wheeler was oblivious to it. So he was shocked when the blond rested against the desk beside him and smirked, asked "so should I call Blue Moon to help you take care of that, or do you want me to?"

It was hard and fast. Wheeler was tight and eager, naked except for the shirt half-hanging from his arms. Kaiba had only paused long enough to undo his fly to get himself out. Contrary to popular belief, he isn't a selfish bastard—he makes the blond cum, and hard.

Afterward, Wheeler sat leaning against the window, slowly buttoned up his shirt, watching Kaiba as he leaned against the desk with a bottle of water exactly ten degrees below room temperature. "That was fun," he declared. "Little more prep next time?"

"Next time?" Kaiba echoed, watching him warily.

Wheeler shrugged. "Who doesn't like a bit of no-strings attached fucking?" He reached for his boxers to tug them over his legs. "Or I can keep calling you blond rent boys to keep your hotel bed warm." A sly smirk crossed his lips, "or both. That's your business."

"That wouldn't bother you?" Kaiba asked, more surprised than anything.

"You use condoms with them?"

He cut Wheeler with an angry look. "Of course."

"You gonna keep using condoms with me?"

"Obviously."

"Then like I said. Your business." The blond shimmied into his tight jeans (Kaiba _loved_ casual Friday asses) and stood up, zipping them closed. "You have a reservation for 8pm at the Waldorf Astoria. Bull and Bear. Call me if you need _anything_ , otherwise…see you Monday."

* * *

They fuck. Regularly, often. Eagerly, pleasurably. Non-committal.

Wheeler doesn't expect anything from him. Not even for Kaiba to get him off when they're fucking. It gave Kaiba the weird urge to spoil him.

He made the blond cum at least once per session, twice if the blond could manage it. He bought him new work suits, gifted him the latest prototypes of KC-Phones, a watch that was worth more than most salarymen made in their lives.

Wheeler took everything with the same sort of happy smile. Pleased and flattered—and showing every moment that it was unexpected attention.

One evening, late into the night, well after business hours, they're lying on the floor of Kaiba's office. Surrounded by a tangle of clothes, breathing slowing down from frantic ecstasy.

Wheeler groaned, stretching his arms and letting one rest by his head. The other loosely rested on his stomach. "Are you still seeing other people?" He asked, his voice idle and disinterested.

Kaiba grunted, watching him warily. "Yes." He said it in a flat voice, the one he knew usually brooked no arguments.

"Good." Wheeler yawned. "All these gifts I was starting to think you were baiting for something." He sat up, glancing at the watch. "It's getting late. Janitor will be pissed if we keep occupying the room for much longer."

Kaiba grunted. "I hate America. Everybody's always in such a rush." He grabbed his boxers and trousers, redressing.

"You know," the blond said, buttoning up his shirt, "hotel rooms have these nice 'do-not-disturb' signs." He smirked. "And room service. And _beds_."

Blue eyes roved lazily over to him as they adjusted his buckle. "That's the first time you've ever asked me for something."

"I didn't _ask_ anything." He rolled his eyes. "But I didn't hint something, yes."

Kaiba smirked. "Well, Joseph Wheeler," he said, prowling close to him. "I might be inclined to give you what you want," he said carefully, "but first…you have to learn to ask for it."

* * *

"Fuck!" Wheeler cried out, having dissolved into Japanese somewhere around the second hour, "Kaiba! Let me cum!"

He pulled away, licked his lips again, and sat up. "You're learning," he said smugly. He reached up, and with a tug, he undid the ribbon tied around Wheeler's cock and balls. He moved back to work, fucking Wheeler with his tongue and pumping him with a steady fist.

He watched the balls draw up and cum spill out of his cock from up close and personal. Then he pulled away and wiped his mouth clean. "How many is that now?" He asked.

Wheeler gave a weak laugh. "Do you mean today or so far this week?"

It's December 27th. Business shut down three days ago, and Kaiba had been in bed with this blond for two of them. Christmas in America was _tiresome_. Business had to shut down for a whole week until the new year.

Kaiba had lasted exactly one night alone and bored out of his mind before he'd called the blond. And since then… well.

"Twelve, and two," Wheeler answered anyway rolling his eyes. "Are you trying to prove something, or…?"

"I like making you cum," Kaiba said smugly. "Usually I can only manage one or two. This is fun."

"So why count them?" He groaned, tugging the sheets over his body.

Kaiba just tugged them off again. "If you're cold, I can turn the thermostat up."

"You're going to chafe my dick," he complained. "And I'm hungry."

"You know where the phone is."

Wheeler snickered, and tugged at his wrists, tied to the bedpost with two expensive silk ties. "I'm a little tied up at the moment, boss."

Kaiba ran his fingers through the congealed mess of cum clinging to the blond's skin. "I told you, Joseph Wheeler. I'll give you everything you want. All you have to do it ask for it."

"Kaiba," he said, his voice taking a seductive curl. "Untie me so I can order food. Please."

He groaned. "When you say it like that, you make me want to keep you for a while longer."

"Long enough to fuck?"

"You know me so well."

* * *

The restaurant was hushed, conversations hardly audible over the tinkle of keys from the pianist in the corner. Across the table, Jou was just finishing up his pitifully small portion of linguini. He set his fork and spoon down, sitting back in his seat.

Kaiba surveyed him over the rim of his champagne glass. He hadn't been able to convince Wheeler to share a glass with him, so he'd rearranged some plans with the waitress while he was visiting the bathroom.

"Ready for dessert?" He asked.

"Dessert too?" Wheeler asked, lips curling up in an affectionate smile. "Is it a special occasion or something? Our anniversary isn't for another month."

Kaiba curled his lips up in a smile. "If you don't order dessert, then I don't get to order my 'Death by Chocolate' mud-cake. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

Wheeler laughed. "Alright, honey." He sat back in his seat, lazily eyeing the wait-staff to see if he could catch their eye.

A busboy came, cleared their dishes away, reset their cutlery for dessert. Wheeler sipped at his glass of juice. He was wearing one of the nice suits Kaiba bought for him, and his modern haircut was trendily tousled at the top.

The waitress brought over a pre-prepared plate.

"What's this?" Wheeler asked, confused. "Did you pre-order it?"

Kaiba curled his lips up in a smile. "Read it."

Wheeler's eyes dropped down to the plate and went wide. In the middle of a heart painted in chocolate icing at a dark blue ringtone. Nice touch that one. He'd leave a hearty tip.

"Seto," Wheeler said, his voice breathless. "Is this…?"

"Open it."

He picked it up in careful fingers and cracked it open. He gasped.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Yes!" he yelled eagerly. "Oh, yes!"

The people around them applauded, some tinkling their glasses. Wheeler leaned across the table to meet him in an eager kiss. He takes off the ring and slips it onto his finger, grinning widely.

"Can we get the bill? Go back to the hotel room?" A slight blush dusted across his cheeks.

Kaiba signals for it, hands over his credit card without looking for the total.

Ten minutes later they're in the back of a towncar. Kaiba is inspecting the bill, making calculations. "They comped our drinks," he pointed out.

Wheeler snorted, loosening his tie. "Well. It was a somewhat romantic fake proposal," he said.

"You're the one who booked the reservation," Kaiba pointed out. "Told them it was for a surprise proposal."

"Bella Notte is an extremely exclusive restaurant. I needed a reason to pull strings. You didn't have to _go through with it_." He lifted a hand, looking at the diamond ring settled on his finger. "Why'd you even have this on you?"

Kaiba turned his head, looking at the city lights streaking by. "I'm going to propose to the man I've been dating seriously. I had Mokuba get this out of storage and send it to me."

Wheeler slipped the ring off his finger, pressing it back into the cushion of the ringbox. "Who's Haruto?"

Kaiba tensed. "My father." He watched Wheeler's forehead wrinkle. "Before the orphanage."

"Oh." He closed the box and passed it back, avoiding Kaiba's eyes. "I hope whoever he is appreciates the heirloom."

They were silent until they parked outside Kaiba's hotel.

"Kaiba," Wheeler said in a quiet voice. "I'm into the whole open relationship thing, you know that."

"I have become aware of it."

"But I don't do married guys."

Kaiba turned to glare at him, one hand on the door. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you know," he continued flatly, "that when you put a ring on it, this thing we have is done."

Kaiba glared at him. Hard.

"Everybody's got their hard lines, Kaiba."

He pushed the door open. "Fine."

He didn't invite Wheeler upstairs to his hotel room.

* * *

The door to his office exploded open. Kaiba looked up from his paperwork with a blank look. "Aster."

The tall, handsome socialite stormed across the room and slammed his hands down on the surface of his desk. "You've been sleeping around!"

"Yes," he said, disinterested. "Why are you here?"

"To confront you!" Aster yelled furiously. "How dare you cheat on me?"

Kaiba flicked his fingers. Wheeler rose from his seat on the couch, and closed the doors of the office. It wasn't entirely soundproof, but it would give them some privacy.

"It's not cheating, Aster," he answered. "We never agreed to be in an exclusive relationship."

"Who is it?" Aster demanded, slamming his hands again. "Who else have you slept with?"

"I can have my personal assistant compile you a list, but it may take a while." He glanced at the man over the rim of his glasses. "It would be quite lengthy."

Aster looked disgusted. "In the last _week_ ," he snarled. "How many?"

"Two," Kaiba replied.

"Who _else_?" Aster demanded furiously.

Kaiba rolled his eyes, and pointed a delicate finger at Wheeler, who gave an absent wave from the couch once again.

"This skinny _twink_?" Aster demanded. "What the fuck does he have that I don't?"

In a low, sarcastic voice, Wheeler muttered in Japanese: "a healthy understanding of polyamorous relationships."

Kaiba snorted at that.

"What?" Aster demanded. "What did he say?

He looked at the man. "It doesn't translate." He folded his paperwork back into the manila folder and offered it to Wheeler. "Fax these to Isono and then file them please, Wheeler."

"Yes, Mr Kaiba." The blond took the folder from him and walked out of the office.

"What do you want, Aster?" He demanded impatiently. "It can't be money; you have almost as much as I do. So precisely what is it do you want?"

"I **want** a respectable marriage and security," Aster snarled.

Kaiba laughed. "You can't possibly think you would get that from me, Aster." He linked his fingers together and smirked at him. "I have a much more respectable marriage lined up in Domino City. With the son of a prominent businessman whose merger with my company will make me one of the most powerful men in Japan."

"You bastard!" the man snarled. "You played me! And you're playing your little twink too!"

"Wheeler and I are the same age." He slid his glasses off his nose and rested them on the desk. "And I'm not ' _playing_ ' him. He is well aware of the specifics of our relationship. As were you, before you decided you needed to play this little mindgame."

Aster sneered. "Yeah. Well. We'll see how well the _press_ likes your little games."

Kaiba laughed. "Yeah. I suppose we will."

* * *

Kaiba bought out enough reporters they didn't print Aster's story. He didn't get his five minutes of fame, Kaiba kept his reputation. Wheeler's name stayed as obscure as ever.


	2. Interlude

"This is the final paperwork of the total acquisition of Industrial Illusions," Jou said, resting the clipped sheaths of paper on Kaiba's desk. "Sign this, and Pegasus has officially handed over controlling interest in his company over to you."

Kaiba's fingers delicately inked out the looping letters of his signature.

"You know that says Seto Kaifa right?" Jou asked, amused.

The CEO rolled his eyes at that. "Of course I know, Wheeler. It's a security measure. It is considerably more difficult to forge a signature that has an erroneous feature like that as part of it."

"Clever," he said, his lips turning up in a smirk. "Mr Kaifa."

Kaiba turned to look at him, a heated look in his eyes. "Wheeler, you're playing with fire," he warned, but it wasn't a warning at all really. More of a hint.

He smirked, smoothing the pale blue tie down Kaiba's chest. "And if I was?"

Ten minutes later he was getting pounded in the CEO's private bathroom, gripping hard on the towel rack. He came once, Kaiba's hand mercilessly pumping his dick. He didn't stop, fucking mercilessly against Jou's prostate and stroking _stroking stroking_ his oversensitive skin.

"Kaiba!" he whined.

"Keep quiet," the brunet mumbled, sucking on his shoulder. "You want everyone to hear you?"

"Hands off my dick, Kaiba," he groaned, reaching down to try and pull his hand away. "It's gonna be like half an hour before I get hard again. You know this by now."

Kaiba grunted. He did release his hand though, moving it up to hold himself up on the wall.

Afterward, Jou carefully tugged his shirt back over his hickeyed shoulder. "So. Is this your goodbye?" He asked, picking his tie up from the sink.

"Pardon?"

"You only came here to acquire I2. Now that it's done, you're going home." He tied the knot carefully, tugging it back up to his collar and settling it into place. "So—is this goodbye or will there be another?"

Kaiba gave him a flat look. "You certainly know how to kill the afterglow, don't you?" He re-buckled from his belt. "I'll be gone as soon as you've packed my bags and chartered my flight. So I suppose that yes. This is goodbye."

Jou reached for his suit pants and slid them back up his legs. "Am I out of a job now?" He asked, smoothing them over his hips.

Kaiba grunted in answer. Clearly he hadn't decided that yet.

"If I'm out, do I get to keep the medical insurance?" He asked. "I've been feeling a bit off lately; I need to get a few check-ups."

The brunet huffed. Muttered something about how much he hated America, and what a mess they'd made of their healthcare system. "I suppose I could keep you on," Kaiba said. "I don't fire Isono every time I leave the country. Inevitably I will be back at some point. I'll need an assistant then, and it would be awfully inconvenient for me if you were working for another company."

Jou laughed. Somehow he got the feeling it wouldn't have made a difference if he hadn't mentioned that little bit of information. He supposed he should just stick around in the job until whatever he had was diagnosed and hopefully solved. Then he could quit—or even convince Mokuba he needed to be let go so he could take a nice severance pay. Live of that for a while and not need to panic about finding a good job. It wasn't like he had anyone else to look after.

"I'll go call your pilot. Then I'll head over to your hotel and start packing your things."

* * *

Jou anxiously held the phone up to his ear. The dial-tone was grating in his ear. He was so anxious—he didn't want to be having this conversation. Still, he had to. He couldn't keep this a secret.

The line picked up. "Kaiba-shachou cannot come to the phone," Isono's smooth voice came from the phone. "Is this a work emergency?"

"Hi Isono," he said in a quiet voice. "No, it's not. But is he busy?"

There was an awkward pause. "Jounouchi. It's after business hours. Well after business hours. What are you calling for?"

"It's personal, actually," he replied. "I tried to call after his normal work hours. Is he… with someone?"

Isono heaved a heavy sigh. "What are you calling for, Jounouchi?"

"I have something to tell him," he said quietly.

"He's busy."

"It's sort of important," he told him.

Another heavy sigh. "Jounouchi. He's at a banquet celebrating his engagement."

That twisted like a knife in his stomach. "Oh. It can wait. It's not _urgent_."

"Jounouchi." Isono's voice is stern. "There is no reason you need to contact Kaiba-shachou that is not directly related to Kaiba Corp or its concerns."

He clenched his hands. "He'll want to hear this."

"There is _no reason_ ," Isono repeated firmly.

"Isono. I've just come back from the doctor. I'm—"

"No reason." He said coldly. "I've been tracking your insurance claims, Jounouchi. I understand what it is you are trying to reveal. Your honest s admirable, but perhaps you misunderstood me. Seto is at his _engagement_ party. To a very prominent businessman to whom he has been arranging a marriage and a business merger for years. Nothing can jeopardise this engagement. Do you understand?"

"Oh."

"You understand then."

He sighed. "Yeah. I guess I do." He was silent for a long moment, moving one hand to press against lower abdomen. "How long should I…?"

"I believe it would be best if you kept your silence on the matter, Jounouchi," he replied. "Kaiba-shachou is aware that you were involved in many partners during the course of your…I suppose relationship is the best word for it." There was a slight tapping, like Isono drumming his fingers on the table. "It would be better if he was not included on any documentation."

"That's not fair," Jou said weakly. "He should know."

The tapping stopped, mid-rhythm. "No. He shouldn't. I am hanging up the phone now, Jounouchi. Please do not call again, excepting business matters."

Before he could response, the dial-tone sounded.

"Then I guess it's just you and me."


	3. Chapter 3

The jet touched down. Kaiba _hated_ America. But he needed to get out of Domino City, and a certain fuck up in New York coincidentally happened at the time he needed. So here he was, in New Jersey. A river away from his private hell-on-earth.

There was a sleek black towncar waiting on the tarmac. Isono really was his best P.A., no exceptions. His driver even had a coffee waiting for him. A little colder than he liked it, but he supposed that was the wait.

His favourite compilation of classical music played over the speakers during the drive, the mix just long enough it was just beginning to loop by the time the car glided into place in front of the large skyscraper that houses the few floors that constituted Kaiba Corp's American headquarters.

And there, standing beside the rotating doors of the foyer, was a handsome blond he did not expect to see again. He was older, his hair was dusted with white hair at the temples, his mouth and eyes beginning to wrinkle, a slight paunch developing around his middle. But he was dressed in a neat three-piece suit, looking down at a KC tablet through a pair of frameless reading glasses.

His driver opened the car and Kaiba stepped out, grabbing his briefcase and sweeping towards the doors.

"Mr Kaiba," Wheeler greeted, his voice still that same obnoxious Brooklyn accent. "Your bags will be transported to your hotel. The documentation for the hostile takeover attempts are waiting on your desk for your perusal. I would say at your leisure, but it's more of a pressing timeframe than that. You have a four o'clock meeting with the board—what would you prefer to be served at the meeting?"

"A selection of hors d'oeuvre," Kaiba replied. "I hardly want to reward them for this mess by giving them high class cuisine."

Kaiba could hear a slight smile in his voice. "Noted. Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Set up a conference call with Mokuba, then go to my hotel room, arrange it how I like." He pressed the button for the correct floor. "Also make sure that the Kaiba Corp legal department in Domino know the correct address and fax number for my hotel. I am awaiting important documentation."

"Business matters, sir?"

"Personal."

Wheeler asked no futher questions. He tapped rapidly at the tablet. "Would you like Mokuba to be patched in to a conference room, or your personal office?"

"My office. And make sure Conference Room 1 is heated to exactly 69 degrees."

"Yes sir."

The doors opened on their floor and Kaiba swept out. He tossed his coat and briefcase on the empty desk of his secretary. Wheeler had walked past him into the office, and was rapidly typing at the computer. By the time Kaiba sat in his chair, the call to Mokuba was already connecting.

"And Wheeler?" He said. "Call Blue Moon. Blond. On standby, have them sent to my hotel when I leave the office."

Wheeler paused in the doorway. He turned back, his face carefully neutral. "Blue Moon shut down three years ago, Sir. There was a company that absorbed some of the clientele that I can call instead."

"Just get it organized, Wheeler."

"Yes sir."

* * *

"His employment has been terminated and his shares have been redistributed into your name until you can find his replacement."

"Wheeler," Kaiba said impatiently. "I didn't bring you here on a Saturday to talk business."

"Oh."

They were sat in a private banquet room at one of the most exclusive tea houses in the East Village. Two chipped, cracked cups of macha tea sat on the table. Kaiba's was nearly finished, but the blond hadn't even touched his. As soon as he'd sat down, he'd launched into an update on the recovery of Kaiba Corp USA.

The blond picked the cup up, sipped it, then set it back down on the table. "So why am I here? On a Saturday?"

Kaiba sighed. "He's divorcing me."

"Oh."

"He says that he does not wish to spend his life in a loveless marriage, and now that his father has died and I have officially inherited his company, he no longer sees a reason to continue being my husband."

Wheeler reached up, running his fingers through his hair. "Damn. That's cold."

Kaiba rubbed at his finger, where he used to wear his wedding ring up until two weeks ago. "It was peculiar," he said quietly. "When I found out, all I wanted to do was tell you."

The blond was silent. Clearly he didn't know what to say to that one. "That would be the personal paperwork the legal department has been sending to your hotel room." He paused. "Is that why you're here? Because up until Tuesday, it was Mokuba coming out here to deal with the take-over."

"Yes," he replied quietly. "I wanted to get away."

Wheeler's phone chimed. He took it out, a slight smile crossing his lips, before he slid it back inside his pocket. "Was there something you wanted me to help with, Kaiba? Arrangements, or…?"

"No," Kaiba said quietly. "He's causing trouble. Some things weren't in the prenup and he's making noise about them."

"Just give it to him."

Kaiba's head launched up, staring down the blond in shock. "What?" He demanded.

"Whatever it is he's picking a fight over. Is it expensive or sentimental?"

"The former."

"Then just give it to him, Kaiba," he said bluntly. "You've got enough money. Buy another one. He's just trying to drag things out, or hurt you. Since when do you let people have power over you?"

Kaiba grunted at that. "Maybe you're right." He watched Wheeler sip from the cup again. "Mokuba said you were engaged," he said in a low voice. "Are you…?"

"It didn't work out," he said quietly.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Was he…?"

"She," he said quietly.

Kaiba had to pause at that. He hadn't known Wheeler was in to women as well. "Did she…?"

"She decided she wasn't cut out for the life that I would be providing for her. It was an amicable split. Mostly." The blond shifted in his seat, falling out of seiza and then back into it. "I've been working for Kaiba Corp, helping out when I need to, working under Mokuba when he's been here."

"Are you… with anyone?" Kaiba found himself uncharacteristically hesitant as he asked that question.

Wheeler chuckled. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not exactly the hot commodity I was at twenty-nine, Kaiba."

"You're not even thirty-six."

"I feel much older." He ran a hand through his hair, almost self-consciously scraping back the white at his temples. "So why did you bring me here, Kaiba? You know what Americans are like about weekends."

Kaiba raised his eyebrows. "Am I keeping you from something?" He asked.

"I'm going ice skating with Shay in Central Park later. That's all. I don't want it to be too late. Trains are always a nightmare this time of year." One shoulder raised in a shrug.

He sighed, turning the cup around in his hands. "I was going to ask if you were interested in continuing the same sort of relationship we had prior to my departure six years ago." He glanced up at him, gaze unrelenting. "I recall that you do not get yourself involved with married men. The finalization of my divorce isn't complete quite yet, but if you let me know when I am a suitable option again…"

"Kaiba," he interrupted. "Not tonight. Try to avoid weekends, late nights unless you let me know in advance. I have to organize things with Shay."

Who the hell was Shay? Wheeler had said he wasn't _with_ anyone. But still, he nodded. "I can do that. It's more than reasonable." He set down his cup and rose to his feet. "Enjoy Central Park. Can you come in early Monday?"

Wheeler nodded, drained his cup, and rose to his feet. "Try and enjoy your weekend, Kaiba.

* * *

The pretty blond escort left Kaiba's bedroom, grinning as he spotted Wheeler waiting on the couch. "Hi there," he cooed.

Wheeler's voice was low and professional. "Good morning."

"Oh, it is good," the other blond said, with a sort of smug satisfaction. Then he added, sotto voice, "you know he made me cum _eight_ times last night."

Wheeler snorted. "That's just excessive," he said. "Do I need to call you a car?"

"No thanks. Agency sent a car. It's waiting for me already."

The sound of the door closing proceeded Wheeler stepping into his room. "You've got a press conference at noon," he replied. "Do you want the white suit, or the blue?"

Kaiba was naked, unsurprisingly, covered by a thin sheet. "Navy," he answered. "Plain. Not pinstripe."

Wheeler took it out of the closet, hanging it over the door. "Your notes for the press release are waiting in the car. I had your new secretary clear your morning schedule to prep for it."

"What are you sullen about?" He asked, sitting up and wrapping the towel around his hips.

"Eight times," Wheeler muttered, lightly turning his towel rack. "You must be happy."

Kaiba raised his eyebrows. "Blue with white stripes. Are you _jealous_?"

Wheeler picked the right tie, laid it over the shoulder of the suit. "…yes," he replied eventually. "It's been a while."

Kaiba raised his eyebrows. "Wheeler, I've made it clear I'm available for our arrangement to resume."

"I didn't just mean you," he said quietly. "Though you were a _very_ good lover. I meant… at all. It's just been me and my trusty right hand for a while."

Kaiba grabbed Wheeler by the belt loops. "I've told you before, Wheeler." He reached to undo the buckle. "I'll give you anything you want. You just have to ask for it." He looked up at him, lips turning up in a smirk. "But now," he said, "I'm going to blow you. Then, I'm going to fuck you. And _then_ , you're going to prep me for the press release."

Wheeler's hands buried in Kaiba's hair, moaning as he took the blond's cock deep into his mouth. "Yes, Boss."

* * *

Wheeler had started wearing undershirts some point in the past several years. No doubt subconscious about the weight gain around his middle. Kaiba sort of missed stripping the blond naked and mercilessly driving his body with pleasure. His recovery time was longer; he couldn't make him come twice in one session any more. So he took him, three times every day he could—before work, during lunch, and after everyone else had gone.

Wheeler shifted, coming out of his half-asleep doze. "Mm." He pulled his head off Kaiba's chest. "W's'time?"

Kaiba didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Wheeler raised his wrist and squinted at the watch. It was still the watch Kaiba had given him six years ago.

He gasped sharply and sat up. "Shit!"

Kaiba slowly sat up, watching up. "What is it?"

"Oh, man. Serenity is going to _kill me_ ," he said. He tugged his pants back on, grabbed his shoes and his shirt. "I've gotta go."

Kaiba scowled, watching him rush towards the door. Who was Serenity now? First Shay and now Serenity? How many people was Wheeler running at the same time?

The blond left the office, then stuck his head back in. "My sister."

"Pardon?"

"Serenity. Wheeler. She's my sister."

"Why do you think I care?"

Wheeler just chuckled and pulled his shirt on as he headed out again.

* * *

Kaiba yanked open the door and glared furiously at his young new secretary. "Where the hell is my P.A.?" He demanded.

"Joey?" She asked, worriedly. "Mr Kaiba, I'm so sorry! I forgot to tell you! He's out today. He called out—family emergency."

His scowl deepened at that, furious. "You get me his number."

"Mr Kaiba, I can't—"

"You get him on the phone in half an hour or you are _fired_!" he snarled, and slammed the door violently behind him.

He sat back at his desk, angrily tapping his nails on the surface. Impatient, he picked up the phone, hitting the button to listen in to the call she was making.

"Joseph Wheeler," his secretary repeated.

A male voice answered: "we don't have anyone working here under that name."

"No, he's not an employee," she said, sounding nervous. "He should be there, accompanying a patient."

"What's the patient's name?"

"Shay."

"Please hold."

There was a wait, that may have only been a minute or two, but seemed to stretch on to eternity for Kaiba.

The line did pick up again. "Are you still there?"

"Yes."

"I'll patch you through now. For your future reference, you need to call extension P-110 to reach the correct room."

"Thank you."

The low purr of a ringing phone sounded soon afterward. "You can hang up now," Kaiba coolly said to his secretary.

She did so with a frightened squeak.

After a moment, the other line picked up. "…hello?"

"Wheeler," he growled.

"Oh, shit! Kaiba," he cursed. "Sorry. I should've called. I'm at the hospital." He gave a heavy sigh. "I can't leave."

"Where's my—"

"The USB with the presentation is in the third drawer of your desk, along with your speech notes. And your red tie, in case you wanted to be that little bit bolder. The catering is already organised. You can send an intern to turn down the thermostat—ask for Carter, he's reliable."

"I needed you here today, Wheeler," he growled.

"I know. I'm sorry. But Shay needed me more."

That sent blistering anger through his chest. "I'm hanging up now," he announced, and then slammed the receiver down. "Send Carter out for my coffee!" he shouted into the intercom on his desk, then went to fish out what he needed for the board meeting.

It went well enough. It could have been better, but he glared down anyone who seemed to think he wasn't doing a capable enough job of hosting it. It was nearly end-of-day by the time he got out from the meeting, and headed back towards his office.

A gathering of workers was crowded around his secretary's desk.

"Precisely what is going on here?" He asked coldly.

A few of them were scared away. His secretary piped up bravely, "we're signing a card for Shay, and sending it with some flowers." She received a frown for that, and added: "everyone here adores Shay. He is just the sweetest—"

"I'll take them down myself. I need to have a discussion with Wheeler."

She looked concerned but nodded and sealed the card up, tucking them in a flower arrangement. "He's at King's County, sir."

"In Brooklyn?"

"I'll have a car ready for you downstairs."

It took a frustratingly long time to cross the bridge, and work through the mess of rush-hour traffic to get to the hospital, and he spent almost all of that time glaring at the flower arrangement the office staff had bought. He didn't know what he was going to do when he saw Wheeler, but firing him seemed like a brilliant idea the longer he stewed in the back of a towncar.

He stopped at the reception and glared at the woman from around the flowers. "P-110."

The nurse frowned at him. "The paediatric ward? Follow the signs."

So he did, getting angrier with every step. Why would Wheeler's boyfriend be there? Unless they ran out of rooms, or Wheeler was messing around with someone underage.

The nursing station there was considerably more friendly. "I'm looking for Wheeler," he said.

A latin woman smiled slightly. "Shay?" she guessed. "He's in surgery right now. But his room is down this way."

"Actually, I'm looking for Joey Wheeler," he replied. "But if an orderly could take these to his room…"

The nurse took them herself, and nodded her head down the hallway. "Op's down there. He's probably waiting by the doors."

Kaiba walked off down the direction she'd pointed, stewing in his fury. As soon as he saw Wheeler, however, it evaporated.

He looked exhausted—utterly wrecked. His hands were clasped, the lower half of his face resting on them. His eyes were closed, but the bags under them was obvious. His hair was a mess, and he was still dressed in yesterday's clothes.

Kaiba, who'd stopped at seeing him, tentatively approached him.

Wheeler turned his head at the footsteps. At seeing Kaiba, his hands dropped. "Kaiba…" He rose to his feet.

Kaiba stopped in front of him, feeling awkward without his anger. "The meeting went fine. The staff sent a card, and flowers. The nurse took them into his room."

Wheeler just yanked him close, pulling him into a tight hug. One more for his own comfort than Kaiba's. "Thank you for coming," he murmured, his voice tired.

Kaiba wrapped his arms back around the blond. "Is it serious, or…?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's just appendicitis. He should be out any minute. The surgeon already left."

"…good," Kaiba said, pulling out of the embrace. "Everyone at the office was really worried about Shay."

Wheeler smiled a little, rubbing the side of his face. "Do you want to meet him?"

"I don't think that would be the best—"

He never got to finish his sentence. The O.R. doors opened, and they wheeled out a gurney. A small gurney. With a small form under crisp sheets.

"Shay," Wheeler breathed, relieved, and caught up with the gurney as the orderlies pulled it down the hallway.

Kaiba was frozen in place. That was a child. A very young child.

…Shay wasn't Wheeler's boyfriend.

He was his son.

He followed their wake, oddly numb. Once the extra bodies had left the room, Kaiba could only stand in the doorway and watch Wheeler perch on the edge of the bed—and his _son_.

He was small, couldn't be more than four years old. He'd thought, for a crazy moment, that Shay could've been _his_ kid—his and Wheeler's. But his age disproved that. He didn't know why he felt so disappointed at that.

"He's young."

Wheeler looked back at him, gave a little smile. "Yeah. It's an early case for appendicitis," he agreed, "but the doc said it can happen as early as 2." He paused, watching him. "Are you coming in? Nurse said he'd be out for a little while, but you could wait with me…"

"No." He shook his head and straightened. "I'm not…very good with sick kids. I'm just going to… go back to my hotel." He gave Wheeler a pained look. When the blond opened his mouth to reply, he hurriedly said: "take the rest of the week off. Look after your kid. I'll see you bright and early Monday."

"…okay." Wheeler turned his attention back to the small form on the bed. "Thanks, Kaiba. See you next week."

* * *

Kaiba was surveying Wheeler over the top of his menu. The blond was on the phone, talking rapidly to one of the other P.A.s on the other end of the line. Eventually, he did hang up, and set that phone on the white tablecloth of the table. "Sorry. You know how it is."

"Indeed."

Wheeler picked up the menu, eyes roving over the lists. "So. Is this business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure." Kaiba replied.

Wheeler raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn't look away from the menu. "Oh."

"We can't meet after business hours, you said," he begun carefully. "Is that because you prefer to be home with Shay?"

The blond nodded. "Serenity picks him up from day care, but I still like to spend time with him in the evenings." He looked up at Kaiba over the menu. "That's not really negotiable, Kaiba."

"No, of course not," he said, shaking his head. "But… perhaps later in the evening? After he's gone to sleep for the night."

Wheeler fixed him with a confused look. "Well… I guess I could. Serenity might not like it, but…" He frowned at Kaiba. "Why, Kaiba?"

"I want you to spend the evening with me," he answered. "In my hotel."

"Oh." Wheeler was quiet, reading the menu and flipping over to the next page before he answered. "I'll have to organise it with Serenity. But after nine o'clock, I can probably manage it."

Kaiba smiled. "I'll have my P.A. organise it for you."

Wheeler snorted. "Brat."


End file.
